


Mission: Distract the Captain

by SashaDistan



Series: Space Husbands [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftercare, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Dacryphilia, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Power Bottom Keith (Voltron), Roleplay, Season 8 Doesn't Exist, Shiro likes it when Keith cries but he's not mean, Spanking, Top Shiro (Voltron), Uniform Kink, authority kink, guided masturbation, oversensitivity, that doesn't go how he expects it to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:28:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26072689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SashaDistan/pseuds/SashaDistan
Summary: Shiro works too hard, staying late into the night at his desk, and Keith misses his husband.So Keith makes it his mission on evening to go and distract the Captain from his single minded focus, and maybe it works a little too well, because Keith is really not in control of this situation.That doesn't mean he's going to use his safe word though.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Space Husbands [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1892728
Comments: 34
Kudos: 230





	Mission: Distract the Captain

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a 3K short for a zine, and i knew I wasn't going to get the original idea done in 3K, so i set it aside. And then when I came back to it, it developed a bunch of extra kinks without my permission.
> 
> Everyone is safe, sane, and consensual, even if they don't talk about it first.

Atlas allows him to slip silently into Shiro’s office, partly because she is loath to disturb the Captain when he is concentrating so hard, and partly because she seems to like Keith and is usually pretty happy to acquiesce to his requests. Keith announces his presence with the soft and unmistakable sound of the long closure of his undersuit sliding open.

Shiro jerks in his chair, a myriad of documents and files laid open in digital format under his fingertips. He stares at Keith, and Keith grins.

“You didn’t walk here like that?” Shiro asks him in a pained voice.

“Yeah I did,” Keith replies smugly. He can see his husband’s eyes following the lines of his body in the skin tight black fabric: he knows how he looks, and he knows Shiro’s weaknesses. He also knows that Shiro has been working to hard, too long, and too late. Keith misses him, which makes his current missions far less altruistic than how he’d framed it to Atlas.

“What if someone saw?”

“So, let them.” Keith doesn’t point out that almost no one is awake or at their posts at such a late hour. Instead he leans with one hand on the edge of the desk, careful not to touch the sensitive surface which is connected in a million ways to every system on the ship. The action allows one shoulder of his suit to fall away, but instead of bare skin it reveals a band of fine wine-red mesh across his collarbone. Keith sees Shiro’s pupils dilate. “It’s not like I’m going to show anyone else what’s underneath.”

Shiro appears to be rapidly losing blood flow everywhere but his cock. Keith can’t actually see the front of his uniform pants tenting with the desk in the way, but the sudden slack set of Shiro’s lips gives him away.

“U-underneath?” he manages, his last two braincells bashing together to finally form a word.

Keith rolls his whole body from shoulders to hips, tugging the tab of the undersuit down the rest of the way and allowing the material of slip from his body. It pools around his wrists and knees, and Keith bites his lower lip as he peels his hands free. He skims his fingertips over the fine mesh of the bodysuit, tracing the lines of the in-built suspenders as he bends ever so slightly to release his legs and step free from the material. Shiro hasn’t looked away, not even for a moment, and Keith preens as he comes around the end of the desk and leans one hip against the edge.

“Atlas? Power down the Captain’s desk please.”

Shiro makes a pained noise.

“Keith- I still have things to do.”

Keith pretends to consider this, chewing the tip of his thumb as he runs his other hand across his chest, brushing over the peak of his nipple and heading south. He spreads his thighs a fraction: Shiro swallows audibly.

“Well, yes… but you should disconnect.” He blinks very slowly. “Because if you fuck me on the desk with the power on, you’ll end up broadcasting me calling you _Captain_ to the whole crew now, won’t you?”

Keith knows he’s pitched his tone just right – the click of his tongue on the ‘c’ and the pull of the last consonant – to get Shiro thinking about his mouth. The accidental discovery of Shiro’s authority kink has been one of Keith’s very favourite things about their sex life in space, and he likes to save it’s use for special occasions.

Shiro’s grey eyes fix upon him as he pulls his lower lip between his teeth, wetting it, then smoothing his tongue over the upper one before letting his lips part ever-so-slightly with a soft, wet smack. He hears the breath hitch in Shiro’s chest. Keith slides a hand around his waist over the mesh of his bodysuit, skirting the very visible head of his already plump cock, and reaches behind himself. Whilst his cock is snug against his hip within the lace of the suit, there is an opening in the back, and Keith angles himself just enough that Shiro knows exactly where his fingers are, but not what he’s doing.

There is a slick pop, wet flesh against smooth plastic, and then Keith places the bejewelled plug down on the console whilst holding Shiro’s gaze. The moment stretches, Shiro looks like he’s having an out-of-body experience as he stares for a long moment at the plug, then back at Keith, then down the shiny smear of lube on his inner thigh. Keith is fairly certain the Captain of the Atlas has actually lost all higher brain function; he smirks.

“Got you going now, haven’t I, Captain?”

Keith coils one leg so that he ends up straddling Shiro’s lap, his arse resting firmly on the desk. A soft notification noise sounds from a speaker somewhere behind him – almost certainly a reminder for yet another meeting scheduled to fit with someone else's day despite making Shiro’s even longer. They both ignore it, and Keith’s not even sure Shiro heard it at all. From this position, his effect on the Captain is all too obvious: Shiro’s perfectly pressed uniform pants are straining over the trapped length of his considerable erection, and Keith feels a swift jolt of satisfaction when he sees there is a dark damp spot staining the fabric. He purrs, reaching out to yank down Shiro’s fly, freeing him with swift movements. Shiro is still staring at him, dazed, and Keith takes full advantage of that fact as he cups the back of Shiro’s skull, raking firm fingertips through the newly shorn buzz of his silver hair, angling his mouth for the kiss. Keith is dextrous and determined, and he times the push of his tongue into Shiro’s mouth with a deft thrust of his hips. He might have planned and prepped himself, but there’s still a sharp joy in the sensation of that first invasion, and Keith moans against Shiro’s lips as he sinks himself down until he is flush and full in Shiro’s lap.

“Fuck...”

Shiro is still gazing at him, slack jawed and doe-eyed, his cheeks flushed pink. Keith cards his fingers through Shiro’s adorable and ridiculous bangs and ravages the Captain’s mouth with his tongue. Kissing Shiro will never not be a revelation, but kissing him with Shiro’s girth inside him, is about as close to a religious experience Keith can imagine. Shiro tastes sweet and fresh, regardless of how long he’s been at his desk and the lips which kiss him back are soft but firm, and delightful in the most familiar way. Keith shudders, almost ticklish despite the heat burning through his skin, when Shiro brings both hands up around his waist, callous-rough fingers dragging over the fine mesh of his lingerie.

“Oh baby...”

Keith grinds his hips down very deliberately, forcing the frankly excessive length of Shiro’s cock still deeper inside himself. The action makes them both groan, the sounds only distinguishable by timbre.

“You like it?” Keith asks, completely unnecessarily. Shiro returns his smirk with a darker gesture of his own as he winds the white and blue fingers of his prosthetic hand into Keith’s hair. He tugs, just a little. “ _Shiro_...”

“I thought you weren’t gonna call me that, _Cadet_?” The words are punctuated with another, longer pull to his hair. Keith’s scalp prickles, a different kind of pleasure running loose down his spine. Shiro presses his advantage, fully returned to the land of the living after the shock of Keith’s less than subtle entrance into his office, and slides his other hand down and around to tease at Keith’s rim where it is stretched by his cock. Keith growls with want.

“Sorry.”

Shiro doesn’t growl, but his eyes get dark and his voice goes gravelly and low when he speaks.

“Sorry _what_?”

Keith flexes his thighs, rising up from his husband’s lap, only to bring himself back down sharply, focussing on his own pleasure as every inch of Shiro drags over slick and sensitive flesh already stimulated from the plug. When he pulls himself up again, nothing but the head of Shiro’s cock remaining within, he finds the rolls of his hips blocked by Shiro’s broad hands gripping around his pelvis like a vice.

“Nnngh!” He whines in frustration, his cockiness stripped away by raw lust and denial. Shiro squeezes him hard enough to bruise, the mesh of his lingerie imprinting into pale skin.

“Something you want, Cadet?” Shiro shifts his hips, reminding Keith of how completely at his mercy he is, cockhead tugging at his rim, threatening to pull out entirely. “You’ve been through basic training: you know how to treat a superior officer.”

The snap of teeth Keith wants to answer with, is halted by Shiro’s prosthetic fingers hooking into his jaw and distorting his lips. Knowing that Shiro is strong enough to keep him fixed over the top of his lap with just one hand causes his cock to jerk and spurt a dribble of precum between his abs and the mesh. Shiro presses two fingers down against his tongue, and Keith slurps at them, already drooling as Shiro feels his way across his teeth.

“If there’s something you want, you only have to ask.” Shiro’s thumb opens his jaw wider, staring intently at his mouth as Keith quivers. “Coming in here dressed like that… it’s hardly regulation uniform, hmmm? Want do you want Cadet?” Shiro’s fingers tug at the corner of his mouth before smearing across his cheek, palm twisting to cradle as much of Keith’s jaw as he can, making the most of Keith’s shameless oral fixation. “What are you trying to make me do to you, _boy_?”

Keith tries to shift down, to sit firmly once more in Shiro’s lap, but he can’t. The muscles of his thighs quiver but Shiro’s grip around the back of his head, fingers woven into his hair and the bruising hold at his hip keep him from achieving any kind of pleasure. Shiro is inside him, spreading him open, but giving him nothing more. Keith burns – he’s been horny and half-hard for hours – and he never figured on having to wait this long once he got Shiro alone. Keith sighs, open mouthed as Shiro’s thumb digs into the soft flesh under his jaw, and tightens his grip on Shiro’s uniform jacket.

“I want you to fuck me like you mean it, _Captain_ ,” he demands.

“I’d watch the bratty tone, if I were you.” Shiro’s smirk is laced with dark pride at having Keith so desperate in front of him. “Or have you done something which warrants punishment?”

“No!” Keith answers quickly, too quickly, because his feels the heat in his cheeks, knowing his blush is lilac tinged when he adds belatedly, “Sir.”

“Oh dear. Someone has forgotten their manners.”

There is an infinitesimal pause, just enough time that Shiro can scan his face, read the look in his eyes, decide for himself if Keith really wants this or if Keith’s about to shake his head and use his safe word. It’s a point of pride for Keith that he never has, but then, there’s no one in the universe he trusts like Shiro.

And the Keith’s vision blurs. Shiro flips him, pulling him up off his cock and leaving him empty and wanting before turning him over, pressing him down onto the console with his prosthetic hand in the small of his back. He kicks Keith’s knees apart even as Keith tries to raise his hips so that his mesh covered cock isn’t pinned between his abs and the hard edge of the desk, but Shiro already has him on tiptoes. The fact that his husband can manipulate him with such force from a sitting position, sends an electric thrill through Keith. He reaches out across the still lit console. Searching for a handhold, but finds nothing.

“How many times have you failed to call me ‘Sir’ since you got here, hmm?”

“Umm…”

“Not good enough, Cadet.” Shiro punctuates his sentence by slapping the shaft of his cock over Keith’s exposed hole.

Keith whines.

“If you don’t answer, I’ll have to pick a number for you. What’ll it be? Ten?”

Keith grits his teeth. Depending on Shiro’s mood, ten is already a lot. The wet fleshy smack of Shiro’s cock in the cleft of his arse has Keith rocking up toward him, hole clenching in desperation.

“No one gave you permission to be so greedy, Cadet. I think fifteen.”

“Sir…”

“Excuse me?”

Keith swallows audibly.

“Yes, Sir.”

“That’s a good boy. I’ll count.”

It’s a small mercy: Keith hates counting.

When Shiro draws away, accompanied by the sound of his chair sliding seamlessly into the floor, Keith arches, rocking back against him, hating the chill breeze which falls across his heated skin. Shiro grunts.

“Eager, are we Cadet?” Two thick fingers swirl around his hole, and Keith tries and fails not to clench and flutter against them. “Maybe it is cruel to make you wait, especially when you came to me so nicely presented.”

“Ungh, _yes_ …” But Keith’s sigh of victory is premature, because instead of the warm length of Shiro’s cock, he feels the wet, slightly cool tip of the plug at his entrance. Shiro presses it into him until he is being stretched by the full girth, then pauses. The plug isn’t huge, slightly smaller than Shiro’s width, but it is unyielding. And then Shiro twists it. “AHH!”

“Needy little hole, must make sure we keep you full,” Shiro purrs, pushing the plug in the rest of the way. He gives the base a little pat. “There, much better. What do you say, boy?”

“T-thank you, Sir.”

“See,” Shiro smooths a warm palm over Keith’s upturned arse. “You’re learning.” He places a wet kiss between Keith’s shoulder blades. “One.”

Either the Captain did not like being distracted, or he really did, but whichever it is, his full focus is turned upon Keith as he brings his hand – his human hand thank stars or Keith doesn’t know how he would survive fifteen blows – down to smack Keith hard enough to force the air from his lungs. Instantly, his skin is hot, pain prickles behind his eyelids, and yet his cock twitches wetly in the soft casing of his bodysuit because he’s proud that he can turn and hold Shiro’s attention like nothing and no one else in the universe.

The next smack lands on the other side, but the relief is short lived as number three hits exactly where the first one did and Keith coughs out a yelp of pain.

“Do you want me to stop?”

It’s not a real question. It’s a test. Shiro’s only going to stop if he uses his safe word.

“No, Sir.”

“Dedication to self-improvement is a sign of great potential.” Four. Five. Six. “I’m very impressed, Cadet.” Seven. Fuck, that one hurt. Eight.

“Thank- _nghh_! Thank you, Sir.”

The next smack is light, almost too light, and Shiro massages over the flushed red skin of Keith’s cheek. He still counts though, and Keith shivers as his hand slides across the plug before dropping to the soft, tight mound of his balls inside the bodysuit.

“You’re doing so well, baby.” The words are whisper soft, the touch accompanying them warm and loving, and just as Keith allows the tension to leech from his spread thighs, Shiro applies the tenth slap to his reddened arse with just as much force as before.

“Ahhh!” Keith grits his teeth, but the whimper escapes him regardless.

“Eleven.”

Keith is panting now, his rear aflame, his cock throbbing along with his pulse. When the next smack hits, it is accompanied by the drag of Shiro’s dick across the back of Keith’s thigh, and he moans.

“So needy, little Cadet. Still being disciplined and already thinking of having yourself stuffed full with something else.” Smack. “I don’t have to give it to you, y’know.” Smack. “I could just come all over you, zip you back into your suit and send you on your way.”

“Sir!”

Shiro leans over him, his superior weight crushing Keith into the console. His lips brush the back of Keith’s neck when he speaks.

“What’s that, Cadet?”

“Please, Sir.”

“You want me to abandon you?”

“No, Sir.” Keith pants, it’s hard to breathe between the pain and the squashing of his lungs. “Please, sir. One more.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Shiro’s voice goes warm and proud, “ _Good boy_.”

The final slap is just as hard as the first, landing on already abused and inflamed skin, and Keith drops all pretence of not-crying as tears leak down his cheeks. His breath is fogging the console’s display, and he’s fairly certain his leaking cock has left a smear on the glassy surface.

“And what was the lesson, Cadet?”

Keith pants as he is turned over once again, his back and the heated flesh of his arse pressing onto the cold console. His legs are shaking, but he goes where Shiro puts him, one foot propped up on the Captain’s chair – re summoned from the floor for the purpose – the other leg held securely in Shiro’s natural hand.

“Basic Training regulation four-point-six, subsection twelve: deference, and correct presentation must always be displayed when under the command of a superior officer. Sir.”

Shiro smiles broadly, his eyes soft despite the force of his previous actions, and he reaches around to run his cooler prosthetic hand over Keith’s hotly throbbing arse. It’s so good it almost hurts. And then the console makes a soothing little chime from somewhere underneath him, and Atlas’s chosen voice – female and distressingly similar to Allura’s – issues from the speaker to his left.

“Sending directive to all crew, ranks one through four. Confirm?”

“What?!” Shiro’s panic snaps them both from the intense heat of their unexpected roleplay and into reality. “No!”

Keith stuffs his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

“Atlas! Permission denied. Don’t send anything to anyone.”

“Are you sure, Captain?” Her voice has changed, a note of sly humour creeping in at the edges, and Keith arches an eyebrow at Shiro. “I think Senior Blade Shirogane’s enunciation is perfect. It would serve as a very good reminder to the junior crew members to recall their initial training. We should keep standards high.”

“That’s like, the weirdest compliment a spacecraft has ever given me. Thanks Atlas.” Keith shoots a smile in the direction of the speaker, even though he knows Atlas doesn’t have a camera there and probably isn’t watching them anyway. She’s a good ship, she has boundaries, and Keith did just disturb whatever subroutines she was probably happily running by reciting official code in the Captain’s office. That would certainly be something which would get her attention.

“Deleting audio recording and transcript. Confirm?”

“Ummm…”

“Captain?”

“Shiro?” Keith stares up at the man he loves, fascinated as Shiro’s cheeks pink with embarrassment. How he still has it in him, to be embarrassed whilst mostly dressed with his cock out, having just spanked Keith so hard that he’ll have painful bruises which will stop him sitting down for a week, Keith will never understand. Keith’s kind of looking forward to the rich purple colour is arse will turn though.

“Atlas? Denied. Do not delete.” Shiro’s face goes still, his eyes slightly unfocused, and Keith knows he’s speaking to Atlas through their telepathic link. He pouts, because his husband is keeping secrets from him even though he’s right there.

“Happily. Good night Captain, Senior Blade Shirogane.”

There is another chirrup form the speaker, and the console underneath Keith finally goes dark.

“That was close,” Shiro huffs in obvious relief. His prosthetic hand, still moving gently across Keith’s abused skin, dips in between his cheeks to the flared base of the plug. “Now, where were we?”

“Shiro… nngh!” Keith chokes on the rest of his sentence as Shiro takes the jewelled end of the toy and instead of pulling, grinds it deeper inside Keith, rubbing the very tip against his prostate. Keith sweeps his hands across the powered down console, finding nothing, before reaching up and seizing Shiro’s forelock. Shiro growls. “Shiro-! Ahhh… what did you do with the file?”

“Hmmm?” Shiro’s blush has faded and his broadly pleased smile has returned, confident once more now that their little interruption is over. “That doesn’t concern you, Cadet.”

“Fuck, ‘Kashi-” Keith starts to sit up, happy to dispense with the fantasy now that he’s sure Shiro is completely and truly distracted from his work. There’s no risk of Shiro getting off and returning to his paperwork now the desk is powered down. He is not expecting to be pushed back with enough force to have his head smack into the console, one of Shiro’s big hands spanning his chest over his sternum, the other keeping his arse pinning in place with the pressure of the plug inside him.

“What was that, _boy_?” Shiro twists the toy inside him and Keith can barely contain his yowl of prickly painful pleasure. “And I thought you’d had enough punishment for one evening. Perhaps not.”

“NO-!” Keith does not intend to shout, but the mere threat of Shiro’s big prosthetic hand squeezing his bruised and tender flesh causes a visceral fear to shoot through him. He knows Shiro wouldn’t actually damage him, he knows he’d probably enjoy it in the end because there’s nothing Shiro does which he doesn’t enjoy, but he’s sore and hard and still so on edge from all the teasing he’d done to himself in getting ready earlier. He pants, letting his body go slack under Shiro’s hands. “Please Sir. I’m sorry, Captain.”

“That’s better. Well done.” Shiro moves to run a finger underneath one of the attached straps which merges into the fine red mesh stockings covering his legs. Keith’s breath comes short at the light, teasing touch. “How attached to this outfit are you?”

Keith swallows audibly.

“It was not expensive,” he says, by way of an actual answer.

“Good. I quite like the idea of you naked and raw whilst I fuck you in my uniform.”

Keith whimpers, and his cock – still trapped within the mesh – gives a very obvious jerk against his abs. Shiro practically preens.

“Oh, you like that do you Cadet? You dirty boy, getting off on the idea of _the Captain_ fucking you in uniform. You want to feel my zipper right _here_ against your inner thigh as I ream you, is that it?”

Keith can barely pull enough self-awareness together to manage a nod, but he does. Standing above him with his perfectly pressed, crisp black and white Captain’s jacket, the gold trim on the shoulder, the high collar still buttoned right up, with his hair dishevelled by Keith’s fingers, Shiro is every inch the kind of fantasy Keith never admitted to having as a teenager. Shiro was always sexy as dammit all in his Junior Officer uniform, but Keith had figured it was just because he was Shiro. It had taken then being jettisoned into space and becoming Paladins for Keith to realise he definitely had a thing for uniforms. Shiro fucking him as _the Black Paladin_ is still one of the highlights of his sexual career.

Now, Shiro wastes no time in reaching up, hooking his fingers over the shoulder straps of Keith’s mesh bodysuit, pulling it down in one long smooth movement, peeling him out without hesitation. Keith hisses when his cock springs free, just the hint of friction enough to have his pulse throbbing once again. There is something so vulnerable about being completely naked in front of Shiro, even after all this time, but it is heightened by Shiro still being _so_ dressed. It helps that all his uniform jackets are tailored to his exact and heavenly measurements, and Keith has never been more grateful for that. He can feel the purple tinted blush rising in his cheeks as his chest shakes with every breath, and this time when he wets his lips, Keith is the one who quivers with anticipation.

“Look at you.” Shiro’s tone is low and proud, possessive. It makes Keith shiver all over again. “How fine your skin is. How tender…” Shiro’s thumbs dig into the smacked-red flesh of his arse, spreading him open to display the jewelled end of the plug as fully as possible, and Keith bites back a whimper of pain. “Now, now… shouldn’t you make sure your superior officer knows how good you’re being, Cadet? No one asked you to be quiet.”

“Nnnngh!”

“That’s better.” Shiro runs the tip of his tongue over the edge of his teeth as he grins, fingers sliding down to play with the base of the toy, tugging softly but making sure Keith can feel the stretch each time. “You took your punishment very well, Cadet. I think you deserve a reward.”

Keith digs his fingernails into his palms, arms stretching up above his head in order to avoid grabbing onto anything he shouldn’t. Shiro works his fingers around the base of the toy, stroking Keith’s rim with deliberate gestures, twisting as he pulls the plug away with exaggerated slowness. Keith groans, the breath he was holding sliding away from him, but he resists the temptation to be smug about finally getting what he wants. There’s still the, small, possibility that Shiro could change his mind, especially if Keith becomes a brat, and Keith will find himself send back to their quarters to await Shiro’s attention on Shiro’s schedule. It would be a bare faced lie to say he wouldn’t wait, because whilst Keith has a long and detailed history of problems with authority, he will do anything and everything his husband wants. Instead he snags his lip with sharp fangs, knowing how much Shiro likes the sight, and flutters his eyelashes against his cheek when he responds.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Mmm…” Shiro swirls a finger over his entrance, so close to pushing in that it makes Keith want to scream in frustration. “Now, I do remember someone demanding to be fucked properly.”

The words arrive with the hot weight of Shiro’s cock sliding over his hole, the crown nudging under Keith’s balls, dragging back and forth along his cleft. Keith arches automatically, pressing himself into the contact, already so close to his edge. Shiro grips his hip with one hand, his fingers impossibly long and broad as they span his abdomen. Keith meets his gaze with a hopeful smile as he feels the stiff fabric and rough-toothed zipper of Shiro’s uniform pants brushing against him as the Captain pulls back, sliding his cock over all of Keith’s sensitive flesh once more. But it’s still not what Keith wants, and he whines, the tip of his dick dribbling a drop of clear fluid onto his abs.

“Touch yourself.”

“What?” Keith blinks, frowning, but remembers himself enough to recover quickly. “Sorry, Sir?”

“Touch yourself, Cadet.” Shiro speaks with the same seriousness with which he directs full scale training manoeuvres and commands the interplanetary conference room: there is no hint now of the man who blushed when his spacecraft asked him what he wanted done with the recording of their little tryst. “I want to watch you come before I fuck you.”

“Sir.” It’s not the strangest thing Keith’s ever been asked, and his quick refractory period means he almost always comes more than once, but it’s never been Shiro’s focus before. He wraps a hand around himself. “Yes, Sir.”

Shiro let’s him get two strokes in, his own cock still resting right over Keith’s clenching hole, then stops him with a distinctive tut. Keith’s eyes flash up to him, but he pauses mid-stroke.

“Not like that.”

“Captain?” This time, there is no powerful, teasing inflection in the title, just confusion.

“Slower,” Shiro commands firmly. “Just the thumb and forefinger under the tip.”

Keith actually shakes as he lets himself go, because he was already so so close. His arse aches, he feels empty and hollow in a hungry way which has nothing to do with food, his dick is wet with how turned on he is, and now Shiro is making him touch himself _less_. Keith wants to growl in frustration. But he can be good for Shiro, and it’s worth it for the pleased grin which spreads across Shiro’s face when Keith complies with his instructions.

“Good boy. Well done.” Shiro squeezes his thigh, then takes the time to adjust the collar of his jacket before straightening his cuffs. The action _should not_ be hot, but Keith feels his pulse ratchet up another couple of notches at the sight of Shiro, so perfectly presented, above him like this. “Squeeze a little. That’s it. Now, keep your hand still – brace your elbow against the desk – and fuck up into your fingers. Just a little bit, now Cadet. Just the tip.”

“Sir…” Keith is already fighting the way his breath comes shallow and fast. “Yes, sir.”

So he does. Keith uses the bracing of his foot against the Captain’s chair, his other thigh still held out to the side in Shiro’s grasp, to roll his hips up, pushing the head of his cock through the circle of his fingers. His skin is wet in moments, precum smearing everywhere as Keith begins to edge himself. He can feel his orgasm tight up under his balls, a burning core of pressure just where Shiro’s cock rests heavy against his skin, and he wants it.

“Please sir… ‘m close.”

“Yes… that’s right.” Shiro strokes down over his belly without touching his cock, and Keith let’s out an involuntary whimper. You can come whenever you like sweetheart, but don’t stop.”

“Nnngh!”

“Good boy, come all over yourself and make a mess.” Shiro purrs. “But keep going.”

It takes one more pump of his hips, a motion which causes Shiro’s heavy cock to push right up into his perineum, before Keith loses his grip on the reins of his self-control. He cries out with a wordless snarl of pleasure as he comes, holding himself tight as his orgasm splatters over his chest in glossy white spurts. Every muscle he has clenches, his whole body taught with pleasure.

But the moment he feels like slumping down into the intense tingling pleasure of his afterglow, he feels Shiro’s cool prosthetic hand gripping his upper thigh tightly.

“Keep going, Cadet. No one gave you permission to stop.”

Keith shudders, his chest tight, but he flexes his thighs and pushes the still twitching tip of his cock through the circle of his fingers once more. He’s so sensitive that it almost hurts, but Shiro is watching him closely, and he cannot stop.

“Good boy. Your whole hand now, stroke the length all the way down.” Shiro makes a pleased noise in his chest as Keith acquiesces before he’s even finished speaking. “Go slow, build yourself up again. That’s it.”

Each movement of hips and hand drags Shiro’s cock over Keith’s skin. It’s such a tease of what he really wants, especially when the blunt head of Shiro’s head catches for a heartbeat right on his ready prepped, lube-slick entrance. Keith is pretty certain he would do absolutely anything now for Shiro to adjust the angle of his hips and sink into him finally, sensitive as he is, but Shiro shows no signs at all of wanting to. Instead he commands Keith to start fucking just the tip of his cock again, but in the whole of his wet fist this time – curling his palm over the crown every third stroke – and Keith moans as his vision goes blurry with pleasure.

“Are you close again, baby?” Shiro’s tone is darkly proud, still the voice of _the Captain_ , despite the sweetness of the pet name. “I can see your pulse, right here.” The pad of one finger rests against Keith’s shaft and the vein which runs along the underside of his dick. “And feel it here.” Shiro’s touch moves to his inner thigh, rubbing his thumb along the ridge of the zipper, pressing the teeth into his skin. “You want to come, right? You can come. Speed up.”

“Y-yes Sir.” Keith squeezes, half wanting to stop, to slow down, to buy himself time to breathe, but Shiro’s hand is gripping his hip and his hard length drags over Keith’s perineum, and Keith can’t do anything other than exactly as he’s been told. He shivers, spine curling, pleasure sparking through him like his nerves are being twisted like a wire. “Shiro!”

“That’s it, spill for me beautiful.”

Keith snaps his teeth, groaning, and he’s sure he goes genuinely blind for a moment as he comes. His hand falls away, he can’t hold on because his skin in on fire everywhere anything touches him, and the streaks of his come fall like a brand over his chest. He pants, nothing more important than drawing breath, and when Shiro nudges up under his balls with his cockhead once more, he whimpers and tries to wriggle away.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“Wh-what?” Keith blinks, vision hazy, then tries to twist as Shiro’s big prosthetic hand lands over his spent cock. “Ngh! Shiro!”

“You weren’t given permission to stop, Cadet. Or to forget how to greet a senior officer.” Shiro presses down hard, and Keith coughs, choking on his own breath. “Can you follow instructions, or do you need another reminder of how to behave?”

“Nnno Sir!” Keith moves a hand back toward his cock but Shiro doesn’t shift his hand, though he eases up on the pressure. “Sir. Please… I can be good.”

“I know you’ve got one more in you, Cadet.” Shiro slides his hand down to Keith’s balls, rolling them gently between his fingers. Keith shivers, because there’s some emotion right on the edge – between vulnerable and fearful – when he feels the soft tenderness of his flesh being manipulated by Shiro’s firm, unyielding fingers. Shiro cups them in his palm, rubbing his thumb at the very base of Keith’s dick, and Keith squirms. “One more, pretty boy. Prove how good you are for me.”

Keith can’t answer, choking on the dryness of his throat, fighting the prickling sensation as he wraps long fingers around his now subtly ridged cock once more, biting back a whimper. It almost hurts, he feels like his nerve endings are being plucked at with tweezers, but he follows Shiro’s voice as the Captain asks him for _slower_ , and _longer_ , and _just roll the foreskin through your fingers, there’s a good boy, just like that_. The more he listens to Shiro, the less intense the aftershocks and oversensitivity are, fading away until Keith is once more strung out on the line between pleasure and exhaustion. Shiro keeps up a slow but relentless pattern of touching, smoothing one hand over Keith’s hip and thigh, sometimes rounding down to squeeze at his bruised arse. Shiro rocks his hips and slides his cock across Keith’s body, over his hole, teasing, prodding, catching, but never pressing. And he goads him, voice low and full of power as he makes sure the edges of his crisp Captain’s uniform drag across Keith’s flushed skin. Keith is helpless, his free hand wound tightly into his own hair to stop himself from reaching out to touch the man he loves, and he grits his teeth as he gets close to his orgasm once more.

“Show me.” Shiro is doing an exceptional job of disguising how incredibly turned on he is, how much he is affected by having Keith at his mercy like this, but Keith knows him too well to be completely oblivious to Shiro’s lust. “Show me how compliant you can be for your Captain, Keith.”

“Unngh.”

“Come for me. Now.”

Keith feels himself shaking apart, coming loose at the seams until he is no more than a drift of star dust in space. His orgasm spills from him weakly, three spurts – clear and thin – which trickle over the heaving ridges of his abs. He wants nothing more than to fall into exhaustion, but he’s not actually been given permission to stop yet, so with great effort he shifts his hips and fucks his cock upward through the wet ring of his hand once more.

Shiro makes an undeniably proud grunt, moving to bracket Keith’s narrow hips with his big hands, and Keith feels the relief of the words which spill from his lips.

“Good boy. You can stop now.”

Keith shudders as his hand falls away, the other loosening it’s grasp, his whole body going lax and boneless on the command console. It is almost too much effort to draw breath. And then he feels something – slightly cool and very firm – pressing against his entrance and he yelps.

“Shhh… calm now.” Shiro places his natural hand over Keith’s chest, palm right against his thundering heartbeat. “Just gotta check that you’re still nice and open for me.”

“Wh-? Ahh!”

Keith squirms as the pressure increases, and what he now recognises as two of Shiro’s thick prosthetic fingers push deeper into him. He is still open, the plug having done its job well, but the gently textured exoskin catches against his rim and he winces, clenching automatically. Shiro tuts as he pulls out, and even that is torture, because every single touch is bordering on painful now.

Shiro leans over him, bracing his weight against the desk – which is a good thing too because Keith isn’t feeling the slightest bit strong now – and even the huff of his hot breath makes Keith flinch.

“Something to say, Cadet?”

Keith feels like his tongue is stuck to the roof of his mouth. This is the closest he’s ever come to wanting to use his safe word, but anyone who thinks Shiro is the more stubborn one is wrong. He swallows dryly and forces himself to answer.

“No, Sir.”

“Good.” Shiro smears his prosthetic fingers through Keith’s come, making his stomach muscles jump, and it is only force of will which stops Keith from actually trying to get away as the slick digits prod once more at his puffy hole. “You sound a little hoarse there. C’mere…”

Keith melts as Shiro’s lips slot together with his. The kiss is perfect and Keith opens immediately for Shiro’s insistent tongue, sighing into the contact and kissing him back as Shiro presses against him. There is something relaxed and grounding about this, so familiar and so good, and even though his mind is mush and his body is on fire, pleasure from the reassurance of Shiro’s love for him spreads like a warm bloom under his skin. His hands fine their way to the back of Shiro’s neck and his waist, itching to get between the button of his uniform jacket. Keith misses Shiro’s skin. Then Shiro pulls back, looks down at himself, and tuts.

“You ruined my jacket.”

Keith feels dread run down his spine like wet snow, because he was more than half expecting whatever this is he accidentally started to be over.

“Sh- Sir?”

“Messy boy.”

Shiro stands upright once more, tugging at the studs of his jacket collar, and Keith feels his pulse climb as he watches the Captain remove his jacket and then his undershirt, before sliding the black and white jacket back on over his shoulders. He is hyper-aware of the way Shiro’s cock is lying next to his own.

“I really should make you clean yourself up. But I don’t think you can be trusted with the task, Cadet.” Shiro’s hands are back on his hips, and Keith can’t stop the pathetic twist he makes in an attempt at escape. It’s not even that he wants to get away, not really, but every drag of skin on skin has him vibrating with oversensitivity which runs the knife edge between sweet and painful. Shiro’s grip tightens on his hips. “Are you failing on your promise to be good already?”

Keith blushes lilac and turns away, unable to meet Shiro’s darkly possessive gaze. The quick, sharp slap to the bruised flesh of his arse has his attention instantly. He does not cry out, but it’s a close thing.

“Better. You should be grateful, Cadet. I’m not asking you to do anything other than lie there and look thoroughly debauched. I’m not even going to punish you for ruining my uniform.”

Keith knows he has to respond.

“T-thank you Sir.”

“Mmm…”

Shiro shifts his grip to Keith thighs, spanning their girth and lifting his legs, draping Keith wherever he wants him over the edge of the console. Shiro takes half a step forward and Keith gasps in shock as the other man drags the heated length of his cock over Keith’s lower abdomen. Shiro moves him by small degrees within his grasp, watching as he rubs himself in the puddles and drips of Keith’s come, smearing the mess as his wets his cock. Keith whimpers as he is made a mess of, then grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut once more as Shiro ruts against his still sensitive dick. He feels a finger touch there and, of course, the muscle in question twitches weakly in response.

“Still hungry, aren’t you?” Shiro is talking solely to Keith’s dick now, and Keith is too far gone to care. The touch turns to soft petting, and Keith feels his pulse against Shiro’s hand in excruciating detail. He wants to hide away from the attention and never come out into the light again, but as much as it is overwhelming, he doesn’t want Shiro to stop touching him. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you.”

And then Shiro is dragging his cock down over Keith’s balls, nudging up under them briefly until the slicked-up head of his cock is resting against Keith’s hole. Just that contact is too much and Keith bites his lip until he’s a hair away from drawing blood.

“Oh sweetheart...” The endearment is soft but Shiro’s voice is anything but. “Are you crying?” A soft finger traces the track of a tear down Keith’s cheek, and he hates that he cannot stop others from spilling after it. The tip of Shiro’s cock pushes at his entrance for a moment, and he hears Shiro sigh happily. “Baby, that’s so fucking hot.”

Startled, Keith’s eyes snap open to see the man he loves above him, and Shiro uses the moment of shock and Keith’s sharp intake of breath to thrust into him in one long, firm push.

Keith screams.

It hurts so much. And not because his body is resisting – because his hole is wet and open and eagerly clutching at the length of Shiro so hot and hard inside him – but because Shiro strikes every single one of his nerve endings as he thrusts into Keith, hitting his prostate with well practised accuracy. And every single one of Keith’s nerve endings is on fire. Keith scrabbles at the console, then at Shiro’s forearms – the only part of his husband he can actually reach – curling his spine and trying to get away. He is rewarded by Shiro’s snarl, and his wrists being briefly held in a tight grip which threatens to grind his bones together.

“Be mindful of your hands, Cadet, or I shall be forced to restrain you. Show me the control all your training has wrought.”

Keith pants, bringing his hands back down, his heart hammering so hard it’s a wonder it doesn’t just burst right through his ribs, and Shiro changes to wrap big hands around his thighs, spreading his legs impossibly further. It puts the red raw, smacked flesh of his arse and his stretched hole on lewd display, and the Captain smirks as he draws back, standing with just the head of his cock tugging at Keith’s rim, making him feel every single throb and jerk of Shiro’s dick as he lingers. Then he pushes back in, and Keith can’t help the feeble jerk of his hips, the sympathetic twitch of his cock, the fluttering muscle of his inner thigh under Shiro’s hand. He cries, tears glistening on the console as he fights to keep his hands still. Even in normal circumstances, this kind of slow and forceful fucking would be torture for Keith, but like this – with his whole body quaking with oversensitivity – it is excruciating.

“So pretty, baby.” Shiro allows one of Keith’s legs to fall open around his hip so that he can reach forward and scoop up his tears on one finger. Keith whimpers as he licks it off. “Can’t believe I can make you cry. Is it good?” He pauses to grind his cock against Keith’s prostate on the next thrust and Keith wails, breath coming short and uneven, salt-water tears running down the creases around his scrunched up eyes. “Fucking hell. That’s so hot. That’s right baby, _cry for me_.”

Shiro switches pace, fucking into Keith harder, faster, with scant consideration for anything other than creating as much friction for himself as possible. Keith feels his dick jerk with each stroke against his prostate and even with a refractory period as short as his usually is, he cannot imagine there’s anything within him left to spend. Shiro notices it too, and his self-satisfied chuckle lights up another part of Keith’s brain and washes him with pride at having gotten the Captain to make that noise.

“Not done yet, are you boy?” Shiro thrusts in harder, using his fucking to mark the intervals in his speech. “Going to make you come on my cock too. You going to come for your Captain and show me just how much you’ve learnt from this lesson?”

Keith wants to protest. He wants to say he _can’t_ , that nothing left in him, but already he can feel the traitorous way his body responds to Shiro’s voice. There is more pleasure than pain now, and he’s hot all over with the desire for Shiro to touch him. Everywhere he is slick with come and sweat and tears and Shiro looks feral and delightful with his wide smile, keeping Keith clamped against the shiny console as he fucks him relentlessly. But Keith can’t say anything, because all the words have abandoned him, both the languages he speaks suddenly gone from his mind, and the only phrase in his head is the one thing he refuses to say.

And then Shiro is fucking him in shorter, more desperate, less controlled thrusts, gripping his hips so tight Keith can barely remember where the rest of his body is – so overwhelming is the sensation – and Keith knows he is impossible close to losing himself again.

“Ahh!”

“That’s it. That’s right, baby. Come for me. Come for your Captain.”

Keith produces an unintelligible moan of need and desire and pain, but Shiro drags him onto his cock as hard as he can, as deep as he is able, and Keith feels his soul leave his body as he twitches over the edge of his orgasm. Everything is warped and strange, fuzzy, dark, seemingly a long way away. He hears Shiro’s groans, sees the shape of his mouth as his composure cracks – _Keith! Keith, fucking hell, I’m coming!_ \- feels the wet heat which floods him as Shiro’s cock pulses and swells and spends his seed within him, but he can do nothing. He is limp and wrecked, dazed from the force of their coupling.

It feels like a long time later when he comes fully back to himself to find Shiro scooping him up, cradling Keith against his broad bare chest, holding him carefully so as not to grip the throbbing flesh of his arse.

“’Kashi?”

“Shhh… it’s alright baby. You haven’t got to do anything.” Shiro is still wearing only his pants with his dirtied uniform jacket draped over his shoulders. He has Keith’s undersuit, mesh bodysuit, and his own white tee in one hand. Keith assumes the plug is tucked into a pocket somewhere.

“No. I should… dressed.”

“It’s OK. I got Atlas to lock all the doors between here and our quarters. Let’s hope no one needs anything this late in the evening.”

Keith can barely keep concentrating enough to hang on to Shiro’s neck. He’s so exhausted. So, he lets Shiro carry him from his office through the near-silent ship. The corridors are free and clear of people, all the doors showing little red marks above where they are indeed locked tight to allow them private passage through the ship. The distinctive chime of their quarters – of Atlas signing off and locking the door behind them – rouses Keith further.

“Shower.”

“Yes, baby. Whatever you want.”

Keith leans against the wall in the tiny shower cubicle – the Captain’s biggest perk considering how precious fresh water is in space – whilst Shiro sheds the rest of his clothes. There is just enough space for the two of them, and Keith slumps into Shiro’s chest again as his husband takes the shower nozzle and begins to run the warm water over his abused skin.

“That… didn’t go quite the way I planned.”

Shiro huffs a soft chuckle, pressing his prosthetic hand over Keith’s chest. Keith blinks at the readout on Shiro’s forearm of his vital signs, feeling oddly reassured by the way Shiro checks up on him.

“You did like it, right?” Typical Shiro, sweet and caring and soft the moment he leaves his dominant headspace. Keith wouldn’t have him any other way. “It wasn’t too much? You didn’t-”

“Shut up, Shiro.” Keith sighs, unable to add heat to his words. It works anyway. “No, I didn’t use my safe word, and neither did you. So yes, I fucking enjoyed myself.” He rolls his neck, listening to the joints clicking. “I do want to sleep for about three years now though.”

“Let me put lotion on your bruises first, OK?”

“You can do that while I’m asleep,” Keith replies. He almost trips on the way to the bed, falling face first into the sheets. He’s going to be sleeping on his front for a while; his arse is on fire. When Shiro moves away to get the lotion, Keith catches him with a foot. Shiro finds his hand and strokes his knuckles softly with one thumb.

“Baby?”

“Promise me you will not leave this bed for at least twelve hours Takashi.”

“But I-”

“Promise! I swear I will make Atlas lock you in here, and this time I’ll tie you to the bed.”

“OK, OK!” Shiro actually does sound a little bit scared. “I promise. I will stay in bed until you give the all clear.”

Keith does very nearly fall asleep to the soothing touch of Shiro spreading cool lotion over his heated skin, but he resists, blinking softly until his vision is filled with Shiro’s face. He reaches out and locks fingers around his wrist. Shiro smiles softly.

“I love you, Keith.”

“You work too hard.”

“ _That’s_ what that was about?”

“Yes.” Keith yawns hugely. “The mission took several unexpected turns, but was ultimately a success. The Captain has been distracted.”

“Oh, Keith…” Shiro sounds impossibly moony and fond and it makes Keith’s heart to funny little flips in his chest. He loves this man too.

Right on the ragged edge of sleep, a thought occurs to him.

“What did you ask Atlas to do with that recording?”

Shiro chuckles.

“I guess your next mission will be finding out. Should be easy for an intergalactic spy, Senior Blade Shirogane.”

Keith snorts, drags Shiro close for a kiss, and falls asleep before he’s even finished. Hacking into Shiro’s personal data storage can wait until tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Please come chat with us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/SashaDistan)
> 
> This author responds to comments.
> 
> Thank you to the incredible [Lole](https://twitter.com/@leandralena) for being an awesome beta reader.


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